


Dirty Little Secret

by immxrtalbi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cedric secretly liked Harry but had no clue he was taken, Drunken Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Secret Relationship, Splinching (Harry Potter), Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immxrtalbi/pseuds/immxrtalbi
Summary: Harry would've been scared of a furious Tom if he was sober, but not right now. Instead he sighed and glanced at his empty glass. While he was relieved that he didn't kiss Cedric, he was disappointed that nothing exciting happened.A part of him wanted to believe that Tom would declare his love and kiss him in front of everybody. But alas, his dream didn't come true."What do you think you're doing?" Tom hissed closely, careful to avoid others from overhearing.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 12
Kudos: 640





	Dirty Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> there's something about writing Cedric in Tomarry fics that's so funny yet sad and heartbreaking. Idk why. Poor guy. Harry always ends up choosing Tom. and I love it. flirting between Cedric and Harry below.

Harry loved the attention he was receiving from Cedric. He blamed the firewhisky for being able to flirt with the man. This was what he wanted from Tom: the smiles, hands touching, blushing at compliments, and in _public_. Harry craved it all. His face was rosy red when Cedric leaned to his ear, whispering that he looked stunning in his elegant robes.

He shouldn't be doing this; playing with fire, but, _oh_ , how he wanted to get burned. Harry was too tipsy to care. Besides, it's not like he was in a relationship to public's eye, and Tom hadn't cared judging with the way he was talking with the current Minister of Magic.

"Tell me, what do you like about me?" Harry asked gently.

Cedric smiled, placing his hand on Harry's. "That you're a determined and fierceless Gryffindor. I used to watch you play Quidditch in fifth year," he admitted.

"Get out! You were in my year? I never saw you." Then again, he was too busy paying attention to a certain Slytherin.

"I was two years above you. Of course you wouldn't remember a seventh year Hufflepuff."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. Hufflepuffs are brilliant!" He hesitated before turning his hand around to hold onto Cedric's. "If I've known you then, who knows, maybe we could've been something." The words came out of him like nothing, and it's going way past playfully flirting now.

"How about now," Cedric said seductively, lips close to him— Harry wanted it so bad, but not like this, not with Cedric.

"Am I interrupting something?" a cold voice stopped them from going any further.

"Mr. Riddle," Cedric pulled away and stood, suddenly embarrassed, "I didn't mean to take Harry's time," he uttered. He gave Harry a look that read 'I'll see you, later', then left them. Everyone knew that Tom didn't like it when others took away his time with Harry's.

Harry would've been scared of a furious Tom if he was sober, but not right now. Instead he sighed and glanced at his empty glass. While he was relieved that he didn't kiss Cedric, he was disappointed that nothing exciting happened.

A part of him wanted to believe that Tom would declare his love and kiss him in front of everybody. But alas, his dream didn't come true.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tom hissed closely, careful to avoid others from overhearing.

"Having a drink. I was obligated by my job to be here, after all. What does it look like I'm doing?" Harry rolled his eyes and was about to order another drink from the bartender, except the guy took one look at Tom's snarl and fled to the opposite side of the bar. Great, no more alcohol for Harry.

"It looked like you were flirting with someone who wasn't me!" Tom seized his forearm, fingers digging into his dress robes' sleeve. "Do you think I like the thought of someone touching was mine!"

Harry scoffed and yanked away from him. "Last time I checked I'm not yours, remember?" he half-shouted.

"Keep your voice down," Tom whispered loudly, tilting his head around.

That made Harry see red. He couldn't do this anymore. The secrets, the hiding. He was tired of it. Harry deserved better than to be kept in the dark like a dirty little secret. His eyes welled with tears; everything was suddenly hitting him that Tom would never say the truth.

"Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you!" Harry roared, then his voice cracked. "I've done so much shit for you. Lie, cover up upon your requests, sneak around. For _years_." A few people turned towards them but Harry didn't care. "I—" Harry sobbed. "I can't do this anymore. I'm done. We're done." When Tom tried to touch him, Harry backed away by rushing out of his seat. "Please don't touch me."

"Harry—"

"I'm going home. You're no longer allowed inside," Harry said firmly as he wiped away his tears. He disapparated without thinking, didn't listen to Tom's shouts that almost sounded like pleas.

Harry landed on the floor to his flat. It hurt more than it did usually—it's not the first time Harry had disapparated and hurt himself. Although this time his arm and leg were killing him. He rolled to his side and raised his arm, pulling down the sleeve down.

He's bleeding. There was a long gash on his forearm all the way to his hand.

"What—How the?" Harry slurred.

As he sat up, pain shot through his leg. Fuck. He had splinched and was now wounded. Taking off his dress robes, Harry lay down half naked on the couch. The injury on the arm wasn't as bad as his leg. His calf was practically missing a chunk of skin.

Where's his wand? Could he even heal this on his own?

His eyelids grew heavier. His body suddenly felt exhausted and his leg was beginning to numb. _It's funny_ , Harry thought, _I'm physically hurting but my heart hurts more than anything._

All because of Tom.

Forgetting his wounds, Harry fell asleep. He'd deal with them later. But later came much sooner. It was after twenty minutes when someone appeared in his fireplace, causing Harry to startle. He howled, holding onto his calf. "Oh fuck! That hurt," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"And it should," Tom said angrily. "What you did was stupid and childish! You could've splinch your body into pieces!"

Harry snapped his head towards him. "What are you doing here? I told you you're not allowed here."

"If you think I'm going to leave you bleeding on the sofa, then you're wrong."

Bleeding? Harry looked down, then gasped at the blood that soaked the beige cushions. Blood dripped down his calf and stained his foot—Oh Merlin, he's going to die! The situation seemed to sober Harry, because now he was begging Tom for help.

"Help me! I'm bleeding too much—" Harry rushed to sit up. "Whoa, I got woozy," Harry said, blinking a couple of times. "Am I going to die?"

Tom sighed and stepped forward. "Stop moving around." He took out his wand and tapped Harry's leg, whispering _ferula._ Bandages conjured around the calf, stopping the blood for the time being. "I don't know any other healing spells," Tom confessed.

Harry snorted. "Because you think you'll never get hurt?" He rolled his eyes when Tom said nothing, indicating that Harry was right.

Tom let that slide. "We need to talk about what happened."

"No." He gently lay back.

"Harry—"

"What do you want me to say, Tom? I said the truth. I'm tired of hiding. It's been _five_ years," he said in a low voice. He craned his head, not wanting to see Tom's face.

"Yes, I heard you earlier." He reached for his hand and whispered the same spell. Dressings covered the wound neatly from his hand to up his elbow. Then Tom gently pushed Harry's legs towards the edge as he sat.

"Ow! Watch it!" Harry growled.

"Did that hurt, darling? I'm sorry." His voice was anything but that. "Don't forget who you're talking to." His fingers lightly walked on Harry's bandaged leg. "It seemed you forgot what I'm capable of," he said, tone laced with something dangerous. Then his fingers began to press down, directly on the spot where it hurts.

"Fuck—Stop!" Weakly, Harry tried to crawl back. "You're a fucking asshole!"

Tom dropped his hand when it became clear that Harry was being completely serious. He had expected like the other times when Harry got angry and Tom had to make him behave. And he would.

"Not only do you hide our relationship but you also hurt me!" Harry groaned as he bent his leg, anything to keep it away from Tom's hands. "You don't do that to people you love."

Tom's eyes lowered as he let out a soft sigh. He's never been good at this—in relationships—which was why he preferred to have his priority set on his job in order to become the Minister for Magic. He's closer now in achieving his goal. And while he wanted it, he also wanted Harry by his side. What's the point in being a minister if he didn't have anyone to share it with?

"Perhaps I have been unfair to you."

"You think?" When he felt it was safe enough, Harry extended his legs again.

"Why do you put up with me?" Tom asked. "Any reasonable person would walk away from this."

"Because I love you," Harry breathed, hands clenched into fists. "It's stupid, I know. I often ask myself _why_."

"Seeing you flirt with that man in the bar made me want to curse him." Tom's lips turned into a snarl as he recalled how Harry was laughing and blushing with someone that was _not_ him. "It should've been me doing that to you."

"Yeah. Should've been you," he muttered.

"How can I ever make it up to you?" He laid his hand above Harry's knee.

Harry scoffed and batted his hand away. "If you think an easy fuck is going to fix everything, then you're out of your mind."

Tom counted to three in his head. Harry was injured and hurt, emotionally. Getting angry at him now would be fruitless. Instead he decided to charm him by saying, "I merely wanted to know if you needed anything else… but if you don't," he rose, "I shall take my leave—"

"Wait!" Harry reached for his hand, barely grasping his fingers without falling forward. "Don't go, please." He was still upset deep down but the fact that Tom was with him instead of the party said a lot. Maybe Harry was pathetic for craving his attention. Any of it.

"You're not pathetic," Tom said firmly, narrowing his eyes.

Harry glowered at him. "What did I tell you about reading my mind without permission?"

"Sorry." Tom apologized by kissing the corner of his mouth, and Harry smiled. "But you're not pathetic. Otherwise I wouldn't be with you."

"Bastard."

He scooted to the side to make room for Tom. There was more than enough space on the couch. "I don't want to be a secret anymore," he whispered.

Tom caressed his cheek with his hand, pushing his bangs to the side, then stared into Harry's green eyes he loved so much. He saw warmth and devotion towards him. "And you won't be. I'll announce you tomorrow to everyone as my fiancée."

"F-Fiancée?" They never talked about it. Harry had been wanting to take it to the next level but feared that Tom wouldn't agree, therefore he kept it to himself.

"Was your eardrum damaged as well?" Tom teased. It earned him a slap on his chest.

"Don't joke with me about this because if you're not serious, I'll…" he trailed off, eyes closing shut as he felt tears threatening to fall.

Tom's forehead was against Harry's. Quietly saying sweet words and promises. "What do you say?"

Harry nodded, sniffling. He did cry. "Say it properly," he said in a plea.

"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

"Yes—Of course I will!" Arms wrapped around his now fiancée, and it took all of Tom's strength to not fall off the couch with Harry.

"And as your fiancée, I'm taking you to a healer right now," Tom said, and his tone made room for no argument.

Harry whined and didn't let go of him.

"I'll carry you there." Arms released him instantly, then raised them, waiting. Tom smirked. He reached around his waist and legs gently, making sure to avoid hurting Harry more than he already was.

"I pictured this a couple of times. But to a bedroom, not a hospital," Harry grumbled. His head on Tom's collarbone. He loved being carried bridal style, not that he'd admit it. But upon a quick glimpse of Tom's amused face, it seemed that he knew how he felt about the new position.

"Trust me, darling, the bedroom will be next," Tom purred.

Harry couldn't wait to be healed.


End file.
